One Step Forward
by LovelyLadyAllie
Summary: #2 in my one-shot series. Fits into either the '91 cartoon or the Musical. Total fluff. Beast can't sleep, and he's not the only one. Rated T for one description of warm feelings. Follows my other One-Shot, Something To Do


**The second installment of my one-shots. Please read Something To Do.**

**I do not own Beauty and the Beast, just the story idea.**

**Thanks for reading! And Please Review!**

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**One Step Forward**

The wind and rain beat against the closed glass doors of the balcony in the Master's chambers in the West Wing. Quiet apart from the rapid taps of water that struck the glass before sliding down to the stone floor below, Beast lay in bed unable to sleep. Usually the calming sound of the rain soothed him into slumber better than any lullaby could, but not tonight. Tonight his mind swirled with thoughts of _her_.

It had been several weeks since he'd been graced with the radiant glow of her smile as she first opened those striking hazel eyes to the wonders of the castle library. When Lumière first suggested it as a suitable way of thanking the girl for not only returning his injured body to the castle after the fight with the wolves, but then tending to his wounds for a week, he'd been more than a little skeptical. What young lady would want to spend time in that cavernous, dusty library filled with boring, droll books?

Sure he'd overheard her telling the servants about wonderful adventures she'd taken, knowing they weren't based on any actual traveling she'd done. He figured she was just a skilled storyteller. Now he knew she had been recounting books she loved. He felt foolish for believing the fanciful musings had sprung from her own overactive imagination, although he was confident she had at least a few original tales to spin if given the chance.

No, tonight he was captivated by her latest obsession, teaching him how to read again. It wasn't as though he'd never been taught. In fact he'd had a near army of tutors who drilled all manner of knowledge and skills into him when he was a child and into adolescence. He just didn't remember it. Books were delicate things and didn't belong in massive paws with razor sharp claws. Besides the only books he remembered were full of dead kings and long past wars, or confusing prose that never made sense in his action craved mind.

As soon as a tutor made any indication that a lesson was finished he would run out of the castle to explore the forest, or swim in the lake, or ride his horse. It was an endless source of frustration and agitation to his father, who was hell bent on conforming his wild son into the very model of grace, elegance and royalty. It was the one thing he'd actually enjoyed when first becoming the Beast. The freedom to climb, run, swim, and flex his muscles anytime he chose, with no tsking taskmaster to reign him in, or a vicious lecture from his father on proper princely etiquette.

_She'd_ shown him that books could be so much more than a leather bound cage that kept him from more enjoyable pursuits. They could be filled with adventure, mystery, action and even romance. They could be an escape from a dull or depressing life. He wished he'd know that in the ten years prior. It might have made his endless torture being captive in his own castle bearable. But he knew it now, and every day she spent time with him, dusting off the cobwebs of his mind, cajoling memories and information lose, he felt closer to the man he was supposed to become.

Staring up at the canopy above he spread his arms and legs out imagining he was Gulliver, shipwrecked on an island, splayed out on the beach, tied down and being crawled upon by tiny, miniature humans. He laughed at his own cleverness as his mind allowed him to feel the light footsteps traversing across his arms and chest when out of the darkness he heard an ear piercing scream.

He bolted upright, his ears now keenly focused on the silence around him, unsure of the sound was somehow part of his elaborate fancy or if it actually tore through the castle.

A second scream dispelled any notion he was imagining it and he raced out of the West Wing, flying faster than he'd ever run before, leaving deep claw marks in the carpets as he galloped towards her door at the end of the East Wing. He skid twice across marble surfaces where the carpets stopped and started again, once crashing into a credenza, toppling over a candelabra and a vase that luckily were just simple objects and not slumbering servants. Blood pounded in his ears as his heart raced with adrenaline and a third scream, this one less shrill and more muted, poured out the crack in the door to her room.

Without a thought to propriety or pause for politeness, he flung open the door and it crashed against the wall. Stepping into the room, his face contorted in worry, panting from the unexpected exertion, his deep blue eyes searched the room for Belle. She wasn't in the window sill where she spent hours reading, and the bed was empty. Finally he turned around and found her crouched on top of the dresser, with a white nightgown tucked under her bare feet, unruly chestnut hair flowing freely over her shoulders and down her back. Her hazel eyes swept up from the floor where he stood and locked with his before brightening and a smile that stole his breath splayed across her stunning face.

Leaping from the dresser she sprang into his arms that reflexively caught her, as thin arms encircled his neck and he could feel her breath against the fur of his neck and shoulder. He stood frozen, holding her, shocked at the sequence of events and completely baffled.

"Oh thank you!" she muttered into his fur, barely audible. "You're my hero," was said much clearer as she withdrew her face from the crook of his neck. Looking up at him she flushed, realizing her current position, but made no motion to remove herself.

"Are you alright?" his voice trembled in a deep baritone that reverberated in his chest.

"I am now." The blush deepened while her lips quirked up to one side, embarrassment clearly displayed on her face. Still her arms clung to him tightly enough that if he dropped his arms, she wouldn't have fallen.

"I hope I didn't wake you," squeaked out, and she tried clearing her throat that had just gone very dry.

"Not at all. But what's wrong? What happened?" His brow was still knit tightly in confusion, and he was becoming more and more aware every second he continued holding her each square inch of where her body was in contact with his and it was starting to unnerve him. It took great effort to focus on solving the mystery of what brought him there in the first place.

"It was… um…" she stammered before burying her face once more into his neck, too humiliated to admit the truth.

"Belle?"

"It was a spider, alright. You crushed it when you walked in," she spat out lifting her head, looking him directly in the eye.

It took everything he had not to burst out laughing. This strong, independent, fearless girl that when he'd shouted at her, shouted right back, was afraid of spiders.

She could feel the rumbling in his chest start, and saw the humor light his amazing blue eyes as he bit down on his lip trying to contain the chuckle that threatened to spill over. Finally loosening her grip on his neck, he gently placed her on the floor, but she didn't step back. In fact she leaned into him as her own laughter at the situation overtook her and he felt her body shaking against his. Wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace he released a snort that tumbled into a chuckle and the two stood there, laughing in one another's arms.


End file.
